


Split

by YanderePuppet



Series: Split [1]
Category: Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Dirge of Cerberus: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Blood and Gore, Cloud is very messed up. Poor kid, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Domestic, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Goddess Aerith, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mind Control, Mind Games, Mindfuck, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Schizophrenia, Two (or more) Sephiroths, Two Clouds, Yandere....Cloud?, dark themes, puppet!cloud, yandere!Sephiroth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-07-29 07:08:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7674934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YanderePuppet/pseuds/YanderePuppet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sephiroth returning again, well, Cloud figured that was inevitable. Finding out his "other" personality that Tifa had mentioned was now a separate entity with it's own form, and was working for the silver monster, now that was not what Cloud expected. Or for it to end in...romance?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this idea came from a roleplay with one of my current RP partners on Google+ (yeah, I have lame taste in social media) this incorporates little from the actual roleplay though. It's so convoluted at this point that basically, none of that will be included basically But we did something in the SefiKura section to sorta make them easier to roleplay as after a while of just countless issues and unsolvable clashes - namely, both of them got split into two because they had torn urges toward each other (though, Sephiroth did it intentionally and temporarily. Clouds is permanent.) So real quick, run down of the “splits’” names and personalities.
> 
> Cloud: the “original” Cloud. A feisty little spitfire, affectionately nicknamed “little shit” who constantly smarts off and starts fights, and rarely smiles.
> 
> Kura: (taken from the romaji “Kuraudo” also of note is it's similar in sound the the Japanese words kuro and kurai, or, black and darkness respectively. Kura itself means “treasure house” and as a name is considered feminine.Kura is a bit...effeminate so it works.) more or less just plain old creepy ass puppet!Cloud. Except he’s a bit… yandere. More than a bit.
> 
> Seph: the less evil one. Has bits of pre-nibelheim personality. He's still an ass, and still kinda cold hearted/cocky, but he's not playing the world like a giant chessboard or throwing space rock at it.
> 
> Firosu: (again, just taken from the name in romaji. But in this case, more because the “f” sound is sharper than “ph, and because of some chopping dialogue Cloud has in tactics. Just made sense in my head) is evil as all fuck. Will pretty much kill anyone who touches either cloud, as he has jealous tendencies (aka is a super high level yandere. To be fair, Cloud is a bit of a stalker so he falls into the yandere category too. Basically this is a foursome of Yanders, who are each a set of two alternate personalities of one or the other person) Also very murderous anyway. The sight and smell of things like blood, entrails, death, fire, fear etc excite him.
> 
> I do not own anything but the concept of the fic itself, which is shared.
> 
> Enjoy

 

Darkness. That is what he saw. That was almost all he had seen for months. And then he moved from his original darkness to a light. A strange one, a foreign one, not the light of his other self. He was floating somewhere, rather than simply locked in his own head, thrown away and hidden from the outside world. He’d seen the rest of himself be resurrected (and why would they shoot him? He didn’t think they were supposed to) and of course, part of him was struck by guilt at the fact that he must’ve been left behind for a reason, but also, he felt slighted. Being removed from his own self was painful, and while the original didn’t seem to know anything was missing, he felt the loss of his counterpart like an amputee does their missing limbs. Those two voices had continued to sound around him even after (He’d come to in the light then. Blindingly painful and glaring and hated.)

“We can fix him.” Aerith whispered over his suspended consciousness. “As long as  _ his _ taint can be removed, there’s a chance.” He opened his eyes, staring. The other side of him had spent two years pining over her, and he wasn’t sure why. Girlish, small, so much pink on everything. And if  _ he _ (master) hated her, then this mirror would too. She wasn’t at all what he wanted. Neither was the other one there. 

“We don’t even know if he existed before then. Poor spike, I never knew he was this fucked up.” Zack piped up.  The small presence glared at him. He’d been there as long as his other half. He was as much the original as the other, he just took more to certain changes with the passing of time. 

It went on for a week, Aerith pining over him like she thought he’d act like his other side. But they were as separate as they were the same. He held no love for her. He only loved one being, and he’d prayed since he woke to the blinding light that  _ he _ would come for him. As it was he was stuck with worried brunettes and kindness that made no sense to him. 

“I think we’re making progress.” Aerith would say sometimes, as though trying to convince herself. Zack would rarely fight her, but would stare at him sympathetically whenever she didn’t look, muttering words such as “hopeless” and “poor kid.” He didn’t mind it much, (most of the time) understanding why he would, but it still irked him greatly on a subliminal level. He didn’t want pity for being himself. But they just didn’t understand that he was  _ happier _ for his choices. So he went on the whole week mentally berating them and refusing to speak out of some weird concoction of hatred toward them, loyalty to  _ him _ and his own rage at being treated like he was incapable of understanding himself. He knew who… no… what he was. So he sat and bore it, knowing one of these days he’d been rescued. 

Then “one day” came. He heard something entirely different from the loathed _ hated  _ voices he’d grown so used to. There was a sudden darkening of wherever it was they were residing (some part of the Lifestream he presumed but didn’t know) that seemed to be caused by corruption of some kind, and it was so familiar to him that his nonexistent heart raced in excitement. Next came the words. Those fateful words that took him back to familiarity.

“Aerith…  _ He’s  _ here.” Zack had said. The split image didn’t question who. He could feel it reverberating within himself, the undeniable need to be with this entity, the singing call that overtook him, familiar _ loved _ **_unyielding_ ** _. _ He swore that his breathless, no longer existing, lungs breathed the name softly out into the encroaching dark waiting to envelope him. He had only been in the light for a week, but he’d wished for this ceaselessly that whole duration, and seeing it now was “breathtaking” enough for him to almost serenade his whisper of that name.

“ _ Sephiroth”  _ was all he needed to say. There were no other words, as he had no doubts his own joy was shared as they pressed together. He could faintly hear those two pleading with him not to go, but since when had he cared for that...for  _ them _ ? They were his other half’s friends, not his.  He’d only ever had one purpose, one desire, and he had no hesitation or misunderstandings of it. He celebrated his rescue, happy to see the man hadn’t shed his own memories just yet (as that was the only way to survive in this place) because it meant he was still remembered and appreciated, and because it meant he could admire the tall stature and feline features the man possessed, as those weren't cast off either (since he knew they had been last time). His staring was met with a smirk, one so familiar he felt his “heart” flutter.

“ **Good toy.”** Was purred into his ear.  _ They _ were far enough away now that he couldn’t hear those two over the thousands of voices,  _ souls _ rushing past, around, through him, but he could see them sigh in disappointment as he leaned upward for the taller to kiss him. Those arms wrapped around him possessively as the man dragged him away. 

 

A week later the man had asked him. 

“ _ Do you still feel your other half’s thoughts and emotions at all?” _ He could see the real question in those eyes.  _ Does he think of me often? _ They asked him, almost pleading (well demanding was more accurate) with their vivid intensity. 

“I don’t quite sense them a lot anymore, but I’m sure he misses you as much as I did.” The gaze that met him seemed placated, but uncertain. “Surely you could just remind him to do so, besides.” And that response was rewarded with a wide smirk. 

“” _ I  _ **_could_ ** _ couldn’t I?”  _ The purred response came. It was only a year and a half later when they formed together, the location familiar. Icy wind blew at the top opening, miles and miles above them so secure in the deepest part of the crater. 

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

He kept having dreams lately. They'd started a couple weeks from when he'd woken to light and Aerith’s voice, then opened his eyes to the interior of the church. When he'd been denied death, after all his fighting. Given a second chance. At first, the dreams had been calming ones, Aerith and Zack waving at him. Then, there was a sudden shift. He didn't know why it always happened this way. He'd get comfortable in his life, and suddenly, the nightmares came back. Nightmares full of silver and black and acidic jade. Nightmares in which his loved ones all died while he was helpless to defend them, or, on other occasions, where he himself was the one to drive the blade into their neck. The dreams were always hyper realistic: he could feel sinew yield, bone snap, blood ooze or squirt onto him, warm and wet and sticky. He always woke up with a racing heart, that horrible voice echoing in his ear. What it said didn't matter, always some small praise, some utterance of that mocking nickname . What mattered was that the voice was  _ back  _ and that could not mean anything good. Never had before, at least. Which meant it couldn’t be good now. 

He was tired of running on little to no sleep, tired of what little sleep he got being so riddled with nightmares that he felt more tired when he woke. He'd been better for months after Aerith sent him back out, since he'd woken up in the church. But suddenly, things just… He growled, punching his pillow. It wasn't right. He was supposed to be whole now! It had been a year, the nightmares had come nine months prior. He'd been forced to move out, had gotten his own house in Edge to hide it, not wanting to make Tifa worry by hiding in the church again, not wanting to stay at the bar where she could see. It also meant there was no one here to see him in his current state. He sighed, mulling over the events of this particular nightmare.

In the nightmare, he'd fallen into a hole. Except, this one wasn't an ordinary hole, it was the crater. And down at the bottom, well, what could it have possibly been  _ other _ than the very being haunting his sleep. The man had simply smirked at him. The familiar ringing in his head started. He walked forward. He couldn't stop himself, couldn't look away. The familiar sensation of losing control of himself was too much, and those eyes watched him with calculated amusement. Unlike the previous nightmares, there was no bloodshed. No dead friends. All that happened was a predatory grin coming down to claim his lips, and a voice saying  _ “I'm back, doesn't that excite you?”  _ and something told him the man didn’t mean just in his head. That this was a proclamation that  _ he _ had returned to life yet again. Cloud shuddered, the voices he’d forgotten being accustomed to flowing into his mind once more.  _ (have to go. Have’ta go to him, to go there. Need to. Have to. Must) _

He wasn't sure if he really trusted the dream, but… If it was true and he didn't check for him…well, he'd be screwed. Fucked. Most likely right in his already fragile mind until it shattered and he finally caved in. And that thought was precisely what found him in the Church an hour later, dappled colorful light streaming through the stained windows and dancing across his face. The pool of water from the rather powerful Great Gospel limit that Aerith emitted from the lifestream a year ago during that climactic battle was still clear and mostly untouched. He traced a finger along the top. The flowers’ smell grew stronger.

“ _ I'm sorry. I couldn't prevent him from leaving again.”  _ A gentle female voice whispered. He reached back, grabbing her ghost hand without much thought. “It's alright.” He said. “I'll deal with it.” She gave him a dainty hug before fading. He whispered out across the water. “Thank you.”

“ _ For what, silly?”  _ He heard. He smiled faintly, hearing her echo her words from almost exactly a year ago, to the day. 

“For not blaming me.” He said gently, a tad of humor in his voice, love, sorrow, acceptance. “For helping me gain forgiveness from myself.” 

_ “Well, someone had to get the message across. You are rather dense at times, no matter how cute your pouty face is.”  _ A male voice answered for her. 

“Zack, If you make a pass at me again, I might find a way to punch you through planes of existence.” 

_ “Love you too chocobo ass.”  _

_ “Zack stop, this was a serious moment.”  _ But Aerith’s tone was light, and her giggling voice, and the feeling of their presence faded, so he took the moment to gather his thoughts.

He decided to take a bottle with some of the water, as it retained all the power of her final limit. Something he might need to do this. The temporary invincibility and full healing properties of it would be extremely helpful at any rate, not to mention that it did a number on any cell mutations Sephiroth could throw at him. He was honestly amazed it did anything at all, since the cells themselves wouldn’t go away, but it was useful all the same. And he had a theory it might have some very painful affects on the being himself, as he was the source of the corruptions that had caused the disease originally. Nodding to the memorial he left in the flower bed, saying a wistful “goodbye” to the two of them, he exited the ruined building, hopped on Fenrir, checked his compartments for the proper supplies, and  drove off to Junon. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You’re other half is coming to us.” The taller male whispered down. The mirror image of Cloud looked up. 

“You think we can make him understand this time?” The blonde asked, tentative. 

“Highly unlikely, as much as I would love for him to finally join us. No, I simply felt that you should be given your own name, as I can hardly call both of you Cloud. Afterall, I never had the chance to name you three years ago when I learned of your existence.” The taller all but purred. 

“I get to have my own name?” the smaller figure asked, wistful and anxious, clearly eager to learn his new name. 

“Of course, even the simplest of toys still deserves a name. And you’re my most useful one. A name is simply necessary by now.” The explanation made a lot of sense to the small figure, as he nodded fervently in agreement, looking positively joyous. He felt honored to finally be given his own identity. “Does anything strike you?...Hm, I suppose not, you aren’t at all creative, are you? But that’s alright puppet, you don’t need to be..” Pausing from his rambling to think, the silver haired male hummed, deep in thought. “Should be similar to your origin, hm? And have a sensible meaning. Cloud in wutaian is Kuraudo, did you know that? Kura would be sensible as a name for you. Do you like that name?” Kura, as he liked the name, nodded. 

“It’s perfect, master.” He replied happily. He had his own name! He couldn’t wait to tell his other half! 

“Now, there is another matter. You are still quite nude, and I am unsure how to clothe you. As you have few preferences of your own, I have taken liberties to dress you after my own tastes. As your other side likes purple, but as of now no longer wears it, I have decided you should wear purple tops at all times, unless I give you one that is otherwise colored. I will create a facsimile of an outfit for you for now, until we can find you real clothes.” And with a flourish, the shadows at their feet spiralled up to encompass his smaller companion, forming into tight leather shorts, and a loose, longsleeved purple sweater. Thigh high socks and clunky black boots made up the bottom, and around Kura’s neck formed a leather collar with a metal hoop on the end, presumably for a leash. Apparently satisfied, Sephiroth motioned to a pool where Kura could view his own reflection, which the blonde promptly did. He smiled a little, thinking somewhere in the part of his mind that belonged more to his counterpart that he looked relatively doll-like. He smiled at his reflection happily, waiting for the arrival of the other, so he could show him.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Ya mean to tell me ya drove two whole days and spent another on a boat ride jus’ ta get here and ask for The Bronco? Shit blondie, shoulda just called and asked, I’da picked you up myself if I’d known.* The taller blonde scratched his head a little as he spoke, oil splotched shirt belying his previous activities as well the workbench of tools beside him could. An unlit, as of yet, cigarette bobbed in his mouth, 

“I was in such a hurry to get here I completely forgot my phone. I didn’t think about it really.” Cloud answered, eyeing Cid. “Besides, Fenrir needed some good use like that. Gods know I needed the ride.”

“Fuck, the speed you pulled up here sounded like you almost blew the engine. I’ll lend ya the Bronco, but yer bike ain’t flyin’ in it. You leave fenrir with me, and I’ll give ‘em a tune up, eh? Get on you spikey ass.” Cloud answered with a smile that didn’t extend past his eyes. Actually smiling with his mouth was too expressive for him it seemed. 

“Thanks Cid.” He said, turning toward the small plane. “I mean it.” 

“Ah, don’t mention it kid.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The flight proved longer than he remembered, but that could be because the recently repaired plane wasn’t quite as fast as the Highwind or the Shera (it still warmed his heart that Cid and Shera had married after they got around their differences, and that he’d named his new ship after her.) The oceans north of rocket town were cold, and cold meant they produced more wind high up. At least, as he was piloting himself (Cid had taught him the basics) he was too distracted to get all that sick from the rocky motions of the plane fighting with the air currents. It improved slightly as he reached the northern continent, looking down to see the bone village in the middle of what appeared to be another excavation. (Odin’s beard, the sheer amount of treasure he himself found there was overwhelming enough. What had that place been before?) he continued his path, slowing respectively over the sleeping forest, and glancing somberly at the Forgotten City. Knowing the Bronco needed a small break, he stopped in Icecicle. He refused to climb the glacier again, just stopped in the inn for something warm. Mead, chocolate, cider, it didn’t matter. Just something warm and sugary that he could drink to lift his spirits before getting to the nitty gritty of the situation. In the end he settled for a warm cider, (the alcohol variety) and some food very similar to what his mom would’ve cooked for him as a child. (After all, settlers of Nibelheim had come from the cold northern lands, where rich fatty foods were key to survival.) Porridge with cabbage and roast meat wasn’t the fanciest or best tasting meal he’d had, but it was warm, familiar, and welcome. The sweetness of the cider helped wash it down at any rate, and soon enough he was back in the Bronco. 

He parked it right on the peak of the glacier, climbing down the last foot the the entrance of the crater, before sliding down. He navigated the caves entirely on memory, avoiding the dark dragons and master tonberries he came across until he reached the end of the normal part. With now aliens waiting for him, he jumped straight to the core, ignoring the Zombie dragon that meandered toward him. Sure enough, an all too familiar presence enveloped him before he reached the bottom, invisible forces easing him down and pulling him into the core where the man stood. The heart shaped platform in the center was dark, no trapped Holy spell to cast a light this time. He allowed his eyes to meet those poisonous emerald ones, as he was telekinetically placed on the same platform with the other entity. He heard shuffling behind him, but he didn’t dare take his eyes off of the silver demon before him. 

“What took you so long,  _ Cloud? _ ” Sephiroth drawled out in his normal sensual sounding purr of a voice. Cloud ignored him, getting right to the point. 

“What do you want, Sephiroth?” He kept his voice level, bored. The man met him with a smirk, as per usual, flamboyantly raising his whole arm in a grandiose gesture Cloud had not even a guess as to the meaning of, before the same hand of that arm came forward to caress his face. 

“Why must you always ask, as though you hope I might answer you differently. What I want, what I’m after hasn’t change, Cloud. Only the means by which I intend to achieve it.” For emphasis, the man brought forward his other hand, tossing an object in the air and catching it.. Cloud shuddered as he recognized the object. It was perfectly round, the deepest shade of black imaginable, and pulsed with a deep purple hue. 

“Is that….?”

“Don’t worry Cloud. I can not use it anymore. Merely here for the sheer nostalgia.” With a chuckle, he threw it at the blonde, who reflexively caught it with ease. ”And you, naturally, complete the picture. Hand it back over, Cloud.” 

“I’m not here to play your mind games. Get to the point.” Cloud retorted. 

“Now now, what’s the fun in that? You’re supposed to play along Cloud. Have you forgotten?” the hand on his cheek tightened, almost hostile. “I suppose I’ll have to remind you, won’t I?” Sensing immediate danger to his mind, and his personal free will, Cloud uncorked his canteen of holy water and threw it on the man before him, no noticing the smaller body that pulled him back as he did until after his head went fuzzy. The last thing he saw as he blinked out was...himself...but shorter. Barely five feet tall, and with eyes that looked more like the demon on the other side of the room. Then he knew nothing.


	2. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just sheer chaos. Don't worry, plot will happen soon

As he came to, Cloud noticed two things. First, that the strange mirror of himself was still holding him. Second, that he was laying on his back, the smaller version of himself sitting down to make it easier. Then, as awareness returned to him in degrees, he noticed other things. Was he seeing… double… no ...triple… wait but.. Shaking his head and blinking a few times, Cloud came to the immediate realization that there were eight Sephiroth’s within his line of sight. And each had something distinctly different about them. The smaller him perked.

  
“You’re up!” It said, looking at him with blank, soulless eyes. Eyes the same poison green as the eight silver assholes around them.

  
“What the hell is going on?” Cloud asked, blunt. He racked his brain to recall whether or not he’d taken his meds. He was certain he had.

  
“Well,” the nearest Sephiroth answered, his voice a lazily sensual drawl, “You threw holy water and now there’s eight of me.”

  
Cloud took a moment to observe the one speaking. This particular one had something extra catlike about him. Longer, lithe-r, more bored in his expression. Something a bit more perversely like caring to his voice than normal. To the blond’s immense shock, the figure (who, he realized, seemed a bit...younger) Had his moonlight colored hair in a high ponytail that draped down to his lumbar. His body was all wiry muscle, very heavily defined but little more in mass than Cloud himself. Eyelashes were the same long, unbelievably dark and thick featherlike lashes he associated the man with normally. Clothing was.. Strange, for lack of a better word. A longsleeved cropped off top, and leather boots and pants with ten-times the amount of buckles as usual.

  
Looking around, Cloud noticed all of them were unique. One was the image of a frightened child (looked around seven years old, in nothing but a baggy ...t-shirt? Or was it a hospital gown?) hugging his knees to his chest and rocking back and forth. One was in the usual attire, except, he was entirely shirt/armor less, and looked larger than life, expression pensive. He looked like an image straight off of a billboard. Yet another was nude, nothing but a set of six wings protruding from his lower abdomen (similar to the fight so many years ago but this had legs, and was relatively human size) hiding the sculpturesque planes of muscle from view. Long claws extended from its hands, and it’s hair fell in matted clumps. Cloud shuddered and looked away, finding yet another.  
The next one was dressed in civilian clothes. Some old band tee and cargo pants (belatedly, Cloud realized that he hadn’t bothered with combat attire in his rush to arrive, and was dressed similarly himself,) and had his hair pulled over his shoulder. This normal seeming side was intentionally not looking at him. Awkwardly, Cloud moved on to stare at one that was dressed in a nice suit. The image seemed very off to him, and this figure made him distinctly uncomfortable. It’s-his? It’s.. hair was braided and pulled over to the left, and this one sauntered over to greet him, producing a rose from air, and handing it to him. Cloud stared awkwardly for two minutes and turned to look at the one that had come up behind him as this happened. It was easily more feminine than the others, and seemed to be glaring at the one in the suit. Vaguely, Cloud noted the seemingly permanent dazed look behind the glare, and the possessive way it hovered around him. There was only one left. The one in the center of the dais, the beating heart of the planet itself used like a throne by this one. Everything about this one, from the way overgrown hair fell around the figure and pooled at it’s feet, to the cool and composed posture, to the long and lean (but toned) form, to the expensive halfway-unbuttoned top and thigh high boots just... oozed power. Regality. Composure. He vaguely noticed small cues, determining what this was all too easily. The silken strands fell individually around different muscles, the way they fell in particular (like individual threads hanging down, so shiny and metallic) reminded him of some old monologues the man had thrown at him, and he itched to cut it all off, deny the entity this so obvious little mind game! (For what else could it be for this man to position strands of hair just so, to make them look like little strings that would allow him to…) Despite his enraged feelings toward this particular figure, he couldn’t help but look away. The possessive one behind him took note. Then came the explanation.

  
“You aren’t the only one with different personalities, you know.” It cooed into his ear. “I have them too…. But yours are important to me.... I have to make sure none of them ever leave-”

  
“Yan, you’re getting off topic.” The civilian styled one replied, stepping nearer to Cloud as he spoke, sounding exasperated. He finally looked at the blond then, who instinctively held onto the hand of his mirror beside him.

“Each of us you see here is a different side, a different aspect as you will. A whole persona.” With a wide sweep, he gestured. The movement was curt and cut off. No grandiose melodrama, just a clipped explanation. “I,” he turned the gesturing inward, pointing to himself, “am the man you and Zack were friends with. The other personalities call me “pre” as in previous or “Pre-Nibel mission” The possessive asshole breathing down your neck is Yan, short for Yandere. I feel the title is quite self explanatory.”

  
The one who gave him a rose earlier piped up, his voice a low purr “I’m Rom, short for romantic.” Rom gave him a caress as he continued. “Of course, I’m never allowed in the forefront. The others say you wouldn’t like me.” There was an odd lilt to his voice. Cloud pushed him away with a curt reply.

  
“Well, it seems they were right.”

  
“How rude.~” the one who greeted him when he first came to purred at him, leaning over just enough to let the ponytail fall between them. “Though I hardly blame you. I am known as Dis. I came from our brief foray into the strange world of Chaos and Cosmos.” Dis seemed to be no less molestation-happy than Rom or Yan were, and Cloud was all to happy to seethe at him. His anger was replied to with a chaste kiss and a condescending expression before the shirtless one came forward.

  
“The others call me hero. I feel it is likely an ironic name, as I’ve never really fought for my own cause.” He said, seemly so much like the way the man had acted on the news or in interviews. Clipped, cold, and assessing. But there was an obvious warmth hidden just under the surface.

  
“Well, why don’t you make your own path now?” Cloud inquired. He himself was quite good at that after all.

  
“I have one now. Though how long you get in the way by jumping headfirst into danger and making it difficult is up to you.” At Cloud’s confused expression, Hero elaborated. “Well, all the others focussed in on you. My only desire is to protect the one we all desire.” With a stiff nod, he continued. “I will protect your continued existence with every bit of my own.”

  
Cloud rubbed the back of his neck at that, but didn’t need to think too much on the awkward syntax or strangeness of it, as the naked and clawed one with the wings around his hips and legs spoke.

  
“Monster.” It growled out. “I’m called monster. I don’t mind it much though. In fact, I like hearing it.” it was hardly a shock to notice that monster smelled faintly of blood, death and decay. “Almost as much I like like to hear screams. Especially yours.” It looked at him with an inhumanly oddly angled tilt to its head. “Every thing from you is so much sweeter.” It said. Cloud repressed a shudder as it ran a claw down his face, drawing blood. A rough tongue lapped it up as it spilled, and almost in a daze, Cloud let it happen. This side was familiar to him. Something he’d come to expect, and after all the weirdness so far, he almost welcomed the sadistic behavior. “Even the pain of my own defeat.” When this one planted a kiss on him, it wasn’t as chaste or as gentle as Dis’s mockery of a kiss. This kiss was painful, it constricted his air, chewed through his lip, and went on till his fav wa blue and his vision spotted. Then, at the end of it, both of their spilt, intermingled blood lay mingled in each of their mouths. They each stared at each other after, both somehow pleased by the outcome. Cloud gave as good as he got, and the kiss was more of a battle than a show of affection (though he figured, that battle itself was the show of affection.)

  
Coughing sounding to their left signalled that there were others to introduce. It was Pre who had coughed, and who now was tentatively drawing the child persona foreword.

  
“This,” Pre introduced, “is Child. He’s a manifestation of all the insecurities brought on by Hojo’s abysmal job at parenting.” Cloud, still dazed from the strange feelings that had him reply to the sadistic kiss only second ago, leaned down. He figured, even if this was just some mind game, or Schizophrenic hallucination, he may as well play along.

  
“Hello” He said nervously.

  
“Are you gonna hurt me again?” The child asked him, looking distrustful. Cloud frowned.  
“That depends on your other sides. I wouldn’t do it if I had a choice.”

  
“Oh, but _Cloud_ ,” the last one sounded around the room, even though it’s voice was little more than a whisper from where it sat on the top of the heart. “You’ve always had the choice to join me.” It purred, fixing him with a smug gleam to its eyes and a wide smirk. The blonde felt his heart flutter.

  
“You have half of us.” the smaller Cloud piped up. Cloud stared at the smaller blond.

  
“Someone explain him, please.” He said, pointing. The tall, draped and imposing figure the farthest from him only widened its smirk, and all the others took that as a key to pipe down.

  
“Haven’t you noticed anything missing lately? Small parts of yourself prone to doubting you, doubting your _friends_? The urge to wallow in your sorrow and harbour guilt over every little mishap? The methodical soldier part of yourself? Or even, the part that always answers my call?”

  
As if on cue, the doll-like mirror elaborated from that.  
“I’m all the parts of you that were deemed broken. Aerith took me out and jumbled me all together when you were shot. I was what ‘died.’ “ The smaller nodded, his actions more expressive than the normal Cloud, though his eyes remained that blank, trance-like wall of green, with the same cat pupils as the man who was in pieces around him.

  
“They tried to ‘ _fix_ ’ him. The shortsighted fools. You can’t fix what isn’t broken, isn’t that right?” The tall figure came forward finally, steps languid, assured. A hand came up in the familiar grandiose gesture, and the smaller “Cloud” pulled Cloud by their interlocked hands to drag them both halfway to meet him. The second they came within five feet, Cloud noticed a buzzing, an almost ringing sound in his head. “And every facet of you is already what it needs to be. There should be no changes. Not unless _I_ put them there.” suddenly, they were face to face. The tall figure ran a hand over both Clouds’ heads, and Cloud couldn’t help the shudder at the small sense of need the contact elicited. Once it was gone, he felt that odd sort of hollowness he associated with all the weird mind-link, pseudo-science mumbo jumbo about what the cells injected in him were meant to do. He shuddered again as one of the words he feared hearing most echoed through his mind. _Reunion_. Calling himself back to his own mind he straightened, ignoring the buzzing and the urges.

  
“And what kind of changes would that be?” He demanded through gritted teeth, expression defiant. For the third or fourth time that day, one of the aspects ( _this_ strange one he was wondering about) trailed a caress down his cheek almost tenderly.  
“Ones that remind you of the truth.” The figure stated simply in that imperious drawl of his. “That you are mine, and are meant to do as I say. Isn’t that right, _Kura_?” The figured asked, turning to the smaller Cloud, who piped up.  
“Of course. Which is why I will never question anything you demand of me…” A small tilt of the head, the motion too smooth, yet jerky and _unnatural_ at the same time. “...Unless I failed to comprehend...in which case I should be punished for misunderstanding.” The smaller… “Kura” stared up at the figure, as though awaiting praise. Cloud Shuddered to think this came from himself, but of course, he could reach out and sense it as though they still shared one mind, and it’s thought patterns were familiar. This had been half of himself for a long time.

  
“ _Good_.” The figure purred at Kura. He then turned to Cloud. “You can learn a lot from your discarded half, can’t you?” The figure leered at Cloud this time, who finally got his thoughts out.

  
“Drop the mind games and cut to the chase. It’s seemingly obvious which personality you are, but finish your introduction so I can figure out how to put you back together and fight you already.” Cloud dropped to his “leader of Avalanche” facade, voice cool.

  
“Adorable really, thinking you’re allowed to make demands of _me_. But no matter, you’re in need of a proper retraining after all, so I cannot truly blame your stubbornness on you this time.” There was a chuckle that disturbed the air between them. A hand came up and cupped his cheek on either side of his face. “No, for once this lapse in proper respect is my fault, is it not? You hardly remember the nature of our true relationship. Or, at least, you recall it with disdain. That shall have to be remedied soon. However, that is not the matter at hand. No, I must give you the instructions to set me back up as one whole.” Cloud didn’t miss the way the man leaned in just such a way as to make the long threadlike strands of hair fall on him in a manner reminiscent of the strings on a marionette. He bristled at the old mockery-turned pet name being insinuated like this, but he knew moving away would only prove his own discomfort, and he was sure this side (... _This subliminal mind-fuck of a personality_ …) was equally sadistic as some of the others.

  
“I’m waiting.” He said, doing his best to continue ignoring the increased pressure in his skull. He didn’t expect the backhanded slap he received in reply, however, and reeled a little from that. His cheek stung, he could feel a bruise forming. He stumbled. He would’ve likely tripped over a stone as he overcorrected his balance if the entity before him hadn't grabbed him by the front of his shirt, then around the throat, warning. Vaguely, he wondered that none of the others were rescuing him. As though reading his mind (which, Cloud thought, the figure most definitely was) the tall entity replied.

  
“Of course they aren’t. Not even the good natured ones are not foolish enough to rebel. No, only you have ever done such a thing.” Cloud glared up at him, even with his cheek smarting (it _really_ stung) and reminding him of his current humiliation and the immediate danger to his person, he managed a scowl. “But that will be fixed soon enough.” lithe fingers rubbed the hand mark they left on his face a mere minute prior. “I can’t have such a _powerful_...such a _useful little toy_ rebelling for too long.” The pressure inside his skull heightened. A chuckle sounded. “But of course, you wouldn’t dream of actually disobeying, would you?” The figure questioned in singsong. The pressure made it so hard to disagree, stray thoughts that he wasn’t sure were his own trailing along, telling him to nod, to apologize, that he’d been wrong to fight. So very very wrong. He couldn't find any reason in himself to disagree (all his reasons were somewhere in the fog, the pressure keeping them away. But the voices said that was good, because those thoughts were bad thoughts.)

  
“I...n-no.. Of course I wouldn’t.” He managed, relieved as the pressure turned to pleasure, the hands on his face easing up. Hi own struggle went unnoticed to himself.

  
“There now~, was that so hard?” The figure teased. Cloud looked down at his own (terribly scuffed) boots.

  
“I...well…” He started. A hand wound through his hair, drawing his attention. It was his own hand. He clutched to his skull, wondering why he wasn’t sure how to reply. Why he wanted to seethe and fight and... The hands on his chin tightened again. The pressure returned.  
“Answer.” The man before him ordered.  
“No. It wasn’t.” He said, almost reflexively. Kura stirred beside him.  
“It’s harder to fight, isn’t it? I know I could never try such a thing. I’d never dream of it.” The smallest of them said, his voice dreamy.  
“See, your other half agrees. It is much easier to do as you’re meant to do, is it not?” He could feel the ghostly breath of those words brush along his face like a small, chilly breeze. Dreamlike and dazed himself, he nodded in reply. “Then why would you ever resist me?”  
“I… I…. I don’t...know…”He flicked at himself. He really didn’t know. Why would he? It felt so right to be here, to be needed. To answer and act accordingly with what words came from that mouth. He felt safe and happy like this, and something in his mind told him it was right. This was right. Proper. Where he _**belonged**_.

  
“It is because you do not have the capacity to fight those who attempt to steal you from me.” The man stated, as though it were common sense. “Those ‘ _friends_ ’ of yours that think they can take away what has always been _mine_.” He felt the grip on his chin tighten. “Renounce them. Renounce them and return to your proper place.” The figured commanded. As though compelled by an outside force (which, to be fair, he probably was, but currently, the fog-like state of his mind obscured that fact from him) he did exactly that.  
“Of course. I do not need any friends. I need only to serve you.” He said, feeling the pressure and the pleasure and the buzzing heighten as he did, feeling them coil around his mind. There was a brief moment of panic as he realized what was happening, but it was silenced by the pressing together of lips as the figure drew him forward.  
“That’s it.” The man praised as they drew apart, his own mind silenced once more.  
“...Master…” Even the parts of himself that were fighting before seemed to be pulled under now, swirling around and around, locked deeply under intensely overwhelming suggestions of love ( _I love him. I am his. All his. I’ll never stray again. No, I cannot, because I love him. Only_ him.) until they began to believe it wholeheartedly, turning their hatred and anger to everyone and everything else. He melted into the caresses doted upon his flesh, unable to ignore the urge anymore. (closer. CLOSER. I need. NEED. needneedneedneed.)  
“Good boy.” The purr came. “You remember now, don’t you?” And all he could think to do was nod. He remembered. He remembered so clearly he could hardly think how he’d forgotten. He felt the figure wrap around him, all the other sides of the man gathering around, all of them very obviously in the same sort of trance-like state as himself. He felt his other self beside him, as they swarmed around. He felt them all pressing kisses to his flesh, trailing caresses behind and before their lips. He felt Kura’s hand, cold and icy in his own. Felt the pressure melt away, appeased that he had remembered so well. He felt whole, even when half of himself stood by, no longer merged. He shivered a little, as everything became somehow brighter, happier.  
“ _Mine_.” The man purred to him, now whole once more. “Don't ever leave me again.”


End file.
